Immortality
by Silent Quicksilver
Summary: In Tom Riddle's seach for immortality he encounters a young witch, who might just hold the key to conquer death. But there is one problem with that: she does not wish to share. How to persuade her, when not even garlic and holy water works?  Story is currently on hold


**Immortality**

Chapter I – Sala Cross

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><p>"Ah! Just the one I was looking for, Tom." The always popular, black haired Prefect glanced up from the group of girls, flocking around the Slytherin boy. A polite smile had spread across his face as he spoke to them, trying to convince them he really did not have time. The Professor urged him over with a burly hand, somewhat in a hurry and breathing heavily.<p>

"Excuse me, ladies." He apologized and ignored their complaints. The Prefect strode towards the elderly man and raised an eyebrow slightly curious. "What can I assist you with, sir?" Slughorn chuckled lightly at the blushing girls. They all send dreamy looks at the handsome sixth year. But then the Head of House placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, steering them away from the crowd.

The two wizards were headed towards the Headmaster's office, when the older of the two spoke once more: "Well, my boy. You see we have a new transfer student in the sixth year." The boy raised an eyebrow even further at the news; Tom had never heard of anyone _transferring _before. Nor that it was even possible for that matter. "She has just been sorted into Slytherin, so I put my faith into you, Tom. Please do take good care of her."

"I will do my best, sir." His curiosity had been awakened, a feeling of slight interest in this _new girl_. They stepped through the oaken door into the office; Tom Riddle glanced thoughtfully over the teachers, all gathered around the girl. He curtly nodded as a greeting, but then he turned his attention towards the other student in the room: The first thing he noticed was her long, silvery hair as it cascaded down her back. It gleamed faintly in the afternoon sun, illuminating the room through the windows.

Her straight posture instantly made him think of the purebloods in Slytherin. Proud and well-behaved: there was no doubt. The girl in front of him was from a noble family. But then he noted her speaking with his least favourite teacher: the transfer student seemed somewhat familiar with the grey bearded man. _That_ did not bode well. Dumbledore was not a popular professor with the Slytherins; and anyone who came out well with him would instantaneously be labelled as _odd_.

"Ah, I see you brought Mr. Riddle." The old, almost balding headmaster appeared almost out of nowhere. Dippet smiled at one of his preferred students before motioning towards the girl, a hand stretched out. "Allow me to introduce you to your new classmate. Miss Cross? This is Tom Riddle, a prefect in Slytherin and a fellow sixth year." His breath got caught in his throat as their eyes met. She was far beyond beautiful: she was absolutely stunning. But Tom quickly pulled himself together and calmed his beating heart. She had taken him off guard; there was nothing more to it.

When he looked past her extraordinary looks, she actually gave him the chills. There was no way she was human. Her eyes were silvery and clear. They bore into his own black eyes as she thoughtfully took in his features: there was a faint sparkle deep down in the sea of silver. Humoured? She looked _pale_, transparent, as if she had never seen daylight before. But his attention was drawn away from her outwards appearance when she smiled. Cross then spoke. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Riddle."

He nodded curtly at her, astonished by the fact he was utmost _speechless. _It was a first for him. To be at a complete loss of words – and that because of a girl! She had once again turned her attention towards the professors and the spell around him broke. As he tried to keep his façade, he quickly turned his gaze away from the girl: perhaps she was part Veela? Tom's brow furrowed slightly, thinking through the possible answers. There had to be a logical explanation to his uncontrolled behaviour.

"I would very much like to see the common room," her voice was gentle, soft. "Just to get acquainted with it all." Tom felt wary of the girl, but he was still not quite sure why: whether it was due to her abnormal beauty or something else. But he would figure it out.

"Why of course! Tom will escort you down to the dungeons." The Head of Slytherin spoke and directed his attention to the boy. The Prefect nodded once more, turning to leave. He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure she was following. Then he headed out, down the many stairs to their common room; their footsteps echoed in the corridors. No one else was around at that time of the day. Tom predicted most would be in the common rooms or at dinner, and that suited him perfectly.

Neither of them spoke.

His mind was jumbled and he felt uneasy. He just could not figure it out. The wizard felt uneasy to have her silently trail behind him; she seemed so inhuman that there was almost no doubt about it. Tom hated when he did not instantly understand a situation; and this was one of those times. As the two came to a halt in front of the dungeon wall, separating them from the Slytherin area, he suddenly felt her gaze upon him. "Is something the matter?" He asked politely.

"Not at all," she answered with a small smile. "I was merely trying to figure you out: you are quite different if I may say so, Riddle. Compared to other humans." He instantly grabbed on to her choice of words. _Humans_. But then she chuckled and stared onto the wall, waiting for him to give the correct password. Deciding not to comment, he muttered _'Pureblood'_ and stepped through the entrance. The witch quickly followed suit.

"Welcome to Slytherin, Miss Cross." The many witches and wizards, casually spread across the room, glanced up at the two. Mild interest and curiosity was shown as they eyed the girl, standing next to the popular Prefect. When Tom took in the surroundings it was easy to read the feelings felt in his fellow classmates. It was jealousy from the girls, while most of the boys were taken aback, just like he had been.

"Who is your lovely companion, Tom?" A drawling voice called out from one of the cosy couches. The boy rose to his feet and leisurely walked over, confident as always. The pureblood was out fast and grabbed her hand in his. "It is an absolute pleasure to meet such a beauty, Miss …?" Her smile never faltered, but she withdrew her hand quite quickly before speaking.

"I was always taught not to give my name out to strangers," she responded somewhat tauntingly. Cross was clearly used to handling _wolves_; Tom made sure to look away, not wishing to get caught up in her spell once more. Not quite sure of her motives, it was better to keep a distance for now. He would not let his guard down anywhere near her that was for sure.

"Sebastian Lestrange at your service," he bowed deeply with a charming wink at the witch. A few girls giggled at the pureblood wizard, but Cross did not react as Lestrange had planned. She on the other hand returned his strange behaviour with a raised eyebrow. "Tough crowd it seems. You are just my type, I must admit."

At this she let out a peculiar sound, though it did not seem like anyone heard it. Except for Tom. His eyebrow scurried up. She nearly _snorted_ at the suitor's flirtatious comments; astonished, the Prefect turned to stare at her. Cross pressed a hand to her own mouth, clearly trying to suppress laughter. "Excuse … excuse me, Mr. Lestrange, but I highly doubt I would be your type." She had once more regained her noble posture, hand falling limply down her side. "You are clearly looking for an obedient pureblood girl."

He grinned smugly, believing he had cornered her. "And you are not?"

"I am of pure blood, do not worry about that. But obedience never really suited me that well." The twinkle had returned deep down in her silver eyes, as if she found it all entertaining. A game. "Other than that, Mr. Lestrange, I must admit _you_ are not _my _type." Tom completely froze, bewildered and shocked, as she with a hand on his cheek pulled his face close to her own. Unable to comprehend the situation, the only thing his brain picked up was how _cold_ her hand was. It was like ice.

She was unexpectedly strong as he tried to pull away from her, holding his face in check. Their eyes locked and Cross smiled, unfazed with being this close with someone of the other gender; it was not something new for Tom either, but he felt his cheek turn numb. Something was _really_ strange about this girl. He kept his façade up and raised an eyebrow slightly. Opening his mouth to question her, she spoke once more:

"The only one I find the least bit _tasty_ would be Mr. Riddle here," he felt her calmly breathe against his face; but just as fast as she had grabbed him, just as fast did she release him again. Cross chuckled. "But I predict that would create a few enemies." Her eyes swiftly scurried to her sides as she took in her surroundings. Then, with another small chuckle, she turned her attention back onto the pureblood boy. "I am Sala Cross, nice to meet you, Mr Lestrange."


End file.
